Home
by BadOldWestern
Summary: Matthew heals Mary's hurt feelings the only way he can. smut. Sometime during S3x02, when Matthew still refuses to take the inheritance. Slight spoilers, but not enough to ruin anything.


She lies across the bed, her back to him, body limp and tired. He reaches for her, and she flinches.

She's managed to be utterly _Mary_ up until this point, no tears, no fits, just a set jaw and determined gaze.

Yet once in a while he sees the slump in her shoulders as she walks away from an argument. She's not so convinced she can win anymore.

So she flinches at his touch as he slides into bed next to her. She was lost in her own thoughts, looking out the window at the night sky she knows so well from this view. From her home.

She pushes her shoulder away from him, out of his reach. He sighs, rubbing a hand over her back.

"Don't be like this." He pleads. "You know there's nothing I can do."

"Nothing?" she bites out.

He sighs. "You know perfectly well I can't accept that money."

She doesn't have an argument, she's tired and at this hour it's futile. She presented her arguments. She needs to find more. It's harder than she thought, holding her own against her lawyer husband.

She lies still.

He sighs again, gathering her in his arms. He places gentle kisses on her face. She squirms away from them. His hands simply run over her body, pulling her closer.

"Please, please don't make me leave my home." She whispers.

It's his turn to flinch. He pauses, considering her face.

He leans in to kiss her, possessively. It draws her heart out of her chest and to her lips. He's kissing each pulse.

"I'll be your home, as you are mine." He promises.

Even as he lays her on her back and moves passionately over her, she is overcome with grief. Tears prick her eyes as he eases the hem of her nightgown up. His hands grab her bared thighs, parting them. She lies open for him, covering her face with her hands.

"Please don't cry, I don't know what I'll do." He squeezes her tight in his arms. She shakes her head, holding him close, grinding her hips up into his. She's had enough of talk. She just needs this. And she'll be ready to fight tomorrow morning.

He grunts low in his throat and moves against her, teasing her with his fingers first. She whimpers, weak for him, as he brushes over the wetness at her core. She murmurs soft, gentle words, so easily earned they're remarkably out of character; just by the fact he didn't have to work for them.

"My love, my love, my love." She repeats in his ear as he eases inside her and fills her. She gasps and bucks her hips up against his. He grunts in response and begins his slow, deep thrusts inside her. She's no longer crying, but her eyes are shut tight as she tangles her hands in his hair.

"Home…" she says vaguely.

"You are my home. And if we're together, we can make a new home. Wherever we end up…"

She gasps at a particularly rough thrust, a bit more upward than usual. It wasn't quite intentional on his part, but he's still learning her body so he attempts the same action again and the noises that follow send his mind reeling.

"Just like that," she pleads him, and he swells with pride in her satisfaction.

He presses kisses all over her face and picks up his pace, and she grows noisier and more restless for release. He grips her hips tighter and pulls her towards him as he thrusts, and she follows his lead on her own. The action of meeting each other halfway sends pleasure spiraling down her spine and she throws back her head and starts babbling nonsense, pleading him to push her over the edge, and the brush of his fingertips over her clit let her fall, and he watches, jumping down after her.

He pulls her over his chest as he rolls off her, careful not to crush his currently indisposed bride.

"Are you quite alright, darling?" he teases, and she laughs, tiredly, but she still laughs. She's languid from release.

"I shall be fine after a few moments recovery." She assures, smirking.

"I'm sure."

"I hope you don't do that every time you make me cry; it won't help you get out of it every time."

"I happen to think I shall, and it will."

She shoots him a withering look, but replaces it with a bemused expression.

"Maybe." She leans in to kiss him, savoring the taste of his lips, over being overtaken by them, of running her hands down his back.

"We'll have this no matter where we go." He swears.

"I know…" she still wants to stay. But this is an argument for tomorrow. Right now she must lie in the arms of her husband and fall asleep with him. Her love. Her home.


End file.
